


Watching the Time

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Series: Ironstrange Bingo [8]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Stephen Strange, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: Stephen Strange reflects on his perfect life.





	Watching the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Short and unbeta'd. Inspired by [this post](http://ironstrangeprompts.tumblr.com/post/184332883789) on ironstrangeprompts @ Tumblr.
> 
> For the Ironstrange Bingo square "Time."

He noticed the broken wall clock for what felt like the dozenth time.  
  
He never knew why they never replaced it. He remembered pointing it out to Tony a number of times, and being told either "I'll get it fixed" or "We should really just buy a new one."  
  
He hated having to sound like a broken record. So Stephen just didn't mention it this time around.  
  
It was a lovely night after all - one that made domestic concerns petty, and everything else fade into gray.  
  
His husband lay in bed beside and partly on top of him, the back of his head resting on Stephen's shoulder. They were both watching the television to fall asleep: a nightly ritual Stephen never thought he would adopt.  
  
But ever since Tony Stark came into his life, he had come to adapt to a lot of surprising new habits, rituals, and ways of thinking.  
  
So much had changed for him, but they were changes that he had no trouble embracing.  
  
Loving Tony was easy - the easiest decision he had ever made, and the easiest thing he had to do every day.  
  
_"So how does it feel to be 'tied down', as the tabloids say?"_ a reporter asked.  
  
_"'Tied down'?"_ onscreen Tony echoed, hand on his chest, feigning indignance. _"I reject the thought that being married to the country's top neurosurgeon can be in_ any way _compared to punishment. Unless you're...talking about a different_ kind _of punishment. In which case, I am totally fine with being tied down, thank you for asking. Although 'up' is preferred."_  
  
"The camera didn't catch it, but one of the recording staff actually shouted 'Yeah! S&M!'" Tony pointed out, laughter playing on the edges of his sleepy murmur.  
  
Stephen planted a kiss in Tony's hair.  
  
_"But you were well-known as a playboy during your younger years,"_ the same reporter continued. _"You broke quite a few hearts when you announced your engagement. People just want to know - what is it like?"_  
  
_"What it's like..."_ onscreen Tony muttered thoughtfully. After a brief pause, he said, _"Okay, well, let me tell you what it's like. It's like...finally finding something you never knew you were missing. And ending a lifetime's wait, because that's it. You've got it. You've finally got it right. And it's time to rest."_  
  
"You did not just say that," Stephen remarked, unable to hide the self-satisfied grin on his face.  
  
"They asked," Tony nonchalantly replied.  
  
"Traditionally, chairpersons are just supposed to rattle off stock figures at things like this, aren't they?"  
  
"Yeeeah, but _this_ chairperson specifically required the reporters to prepare interesting, offbeat questions. Then he picked out the juicy ones before the cameras came on." Tony playfully grimaced. "I wanted to brag about my married life. So it was _kinda_ scripted. Sorry."  
  
Stephen grunted. "Is it all true, though?"  
  
Tony's face was deathly serious when he looked up.  
  
And when he pressed his lips against Stephen's.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked.  
  
Stephen smiled as he kissed his husband again, more passionately this time.  
  
His husband. _His._  
  
He was living in a luxurious apartment with this amazing man, with whom he enjoyed the fruits of his labors as a celebrated medical professional.  
  
All true. All real.  
  
As their kiss ended, Stephen's glance randomly fell on an item on the bedstand: a fancy wristwatch his ex-girlfriend Christine had given him as a gift.  
  
It was broken. Smashed. The glass on its face splintered, the mechanism inside crushed.  
  
He wasn't expecting to see that watch there, and in such a state.  
  
Why was he keeping a broken watch on the bedstand, within easy reach?  
  
But he stopped himself from asking more questions. It just wasn't that kind of night.  
  
He contented himself with thinking: it was well and good that clocks died in a place like this.  
  
It was a good place for time to stop.  
  
Here, where he lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep, with the love of his life in his arms and peace in his heart.

  
  
***

  
  
When Stephen opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the wall clock.  
  
It was the same clock as the one in his apartment.  
  
Except it wasn't broken here. It was running perfectly.  
  
And it was on a different wall.  
  
This wall was bare. Sanitized. Painted in muted, neutral colors. An all too familiar sight.  
  
But it didn't sink in right away. In his head, he was still waking up in his posh apartment. Still married to the perfect man. Still on top of the world.  
  
Still whole.  
  
And the next thing he saw was Christine's face - sad, scared, deeply upset, as she sat at his bedside.  
  
"It's okay," she was saying softly. "It's gonna be okay."  
  
But the compassion in her voice did nothing to cushion the blow of what he saw afterwards.  
  
_The pins in his hands. His splinted, bandaged, elevated arms._  
  
No.  
  
_In the background, the view of New York outside a window - a view he knew too well..._  
  
This must be a dream. A nightmare.  
  
_Metro-General. A private room. The best private room in the hospital._  
  
He wanted to wake up.  
  
_Tony._  
  
The name was the first word to form in his mind.  
  
_Where's Tony?_  
  
But a great many other thoughts immediately followed, and soon all that was in his head, was chaos.

Christine was telling him he was in a car accident. He'd been driving on a mountain road; his car was clipped, sideswiped off a cliff.

He wanted to say no. No, he was in his apartment. With his husband. He'd been asleep.

His husband - what was his name again?  
  
Too many questions. Too much to take in. Pain wasn't even in the equation.  
  
And the first thing that came out of his lips, in the end, was "What did they do?"


End file.
